


happiness was never mine to hold

by blurryfaced



Series: nameless, faceless [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, also experimenting with a bit of a different writing style, hopefully it turns out okay!!, i havent been sad in ages, i honestly have no idea where the urge to write so much sadness is coming from, i want to write other things but they keep turning out sadder than planned, its a bit distracting, lapslock, mentioned markjin, so i have to use this shit to get it out my system instead gdi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaced/pseuds/blurryfaced
Summary: I wish I could remember how this ends, so I could tell you. I wish I knew if this turns out to be a fairytale, or if it continues to suck the life from jaebum until he gives up.but I can’t remember. I just can’t remember.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowedMelody (ShadowedMaiden)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowedMaiden/gifts).



> so i'm just gonna gift this whole series to lily since it's because of them that it exists. i don't know if you read the tags, but i'm experimenting with a writing style i saw in [this work](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7552294) that i really like and it seems to fit here well enough with what i want to project?? but yeah, you should check it out, too!!
> 
> this is quite sad (or i'm hoping it is) so just keep that in mind. enjoy!!
> 
> —mack

_so what are you waiting for?_  
_‘cause someone could love you more—_  
_I’m just a lost boy. **  
**_ ( troye sivan, lost boy )

**i.**

when jaebum first met ars, it was in the queue to go see a movie. he’d been ditched last minute for a date and although he was rather grumpy about it, he couldn’t bring it in himself to up and leave. he’d come here to see a movie, so he was going to see it, even if he was by himself.

at this point in time, it’s important to mention that ars’ name and face weren’t everywhere, that he wasn’t known. he hadn’t been found, wasn’t being hunted, and most certainly didn’t have a death warrant hanging over his head, petitioned by everyone _including_ himself. it was happier times, times where it was easy to lose yourself in someone.

and jaebum did lose himself in ars; he found himself lost in the wide smile, the mole under his eye, _his eyes **themselves**_. the boy had been so nice and kind, quick to forgive when a shove from behind sent jaebum straight into him.

it turned out that ars had also come to the cinema alone, but out of choice. so it was only natural that the two would strike up a conversation and get popcorn and drinks together. it had been so nice, so normal. a time filled with soft jumpers and gentle smiles, hesitant conversation and accidental flirting.

ars was a man who dressed for comfort, if his severely oversized jumpers and jackets were of any concern. he was always seen with sneakers, most of them beaten or scuffed or well-worn, jeans cladding his legs. occasionally he’d wear a hat. the first time jaebum had seen it, he’d made a comment about how it was the boy’s own halo, from the angle he’d put it at.

the resulting tickle and pillow fight had led to their first kiss.

 

**ii.**

jaebum pulls the front door open and squints at the light filtering from the hall. the air is cold and pricks at his skin like needles, forcing goosebumps to erupt all over his flesh. his eyes land on ars as he pushes his way gently into the flat. “ars, do you have any idea what time it is.”

“3:17 am.”

there’s a moment where he sighs, closes his eyes and leans against the edge of the door. it’s a moment that could only last several seconds, where he can’t watch ars move about, where he can’t watch ars _exist_. he needs to draw strength, needs the energy to get through this _. when did I start needing strength? when did this become a chore?_ slowly, he closes the door and turns to his guest, who is now void of his mask and snapback.

“why are you here at three in the morning?” he asks, pulling his dressing gown closer over his body and crossing his arms over his chest.

ars undoes his laces and pulls off his shoes, placing them neatly beside a pair of jaebum’s. he then hangs his mask and hat, looking at jaebum over his shoulder. “I thought I’d come and visit.”

jaebum stares. “you don’t just ‘come and visit’.”

the light from the hallway makes ars look darker, his outlines fuzzy and face out of focus. it’s hard to see what expression he’s pulling, what he’s thinking. then again, jaebum finds himself wondering if he ever even knew in the first place.

ars gently takes hold of his hand, prying it away from his bicep and his chest, and begins to lead him through his own home, past the living room and into his bedroom. he pushes jaebum down onto the bed and is quick to pull out items of clothing from jaebum’s chest of drawers, changing as quickly as he can in the cold air.

jaebum sits on the edge of the bed and watches him. his hands are limp in his lap, shoulders drooping and face expressionless. when ars turns and spots him, he stops, movements slowing. the silence of the night holds them and it feels so _sad_. it feels so sad that jaebum’s almost certain his soul is drowning.

ars moves, walks forward until his feet are between jaebum’s. his hands are freezing when they cup his cheeks, keeping his head still for a kiss. it’s chaste, sweet, comforting; like a soothing balm, it turns the sadness into something manageable, something that isn’t drowning him but only _threatens_ to suffocate.

when jaebum wakes, ars is still there, still pressed against his side with his face against his neck, and he wonders if things are finally going back to how they had once been.

 

**iii.**

it was on their fourth date that ars got too ill for them to go out. so after an hour of convincing, jaebum managed to get his address and drove over with a bag full of necessities.

so instead of the two of them eating out and then walking ars’ dog afterwards in a park with ice-cream, the two of them were curled up on ars’ sofa under a blanket eating chicken soup and binge watching movies. it was one of the few times jaebum enjoyed the calm between them, because they sat there, eyes on the tv and occasionally on each other, just basking in the emotions the movies projected.

with ars’ legs in his lap, jaebum was able to marvel at how nice it felt to hold the younger man close. his body was curled up against him, head resting on his shoulder and hands clasped around the blanket, keeping it up high on both of them. even with a pink and runny nose and puffy eyes, the man was beautiful and it left jaebum feeling breathless.

they fit well together, and he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten to be so lucky.

 

**iv.**

it’s one of those rare moments where the two of them are laying, naked, on jaebum’s bed. the warmth that set deep into his muscles from sex is slowly slipping away, replaced by the usual ache of wanting. but in the still of it, in the five seconds he can bask in, he can ignore it.

like this, he can kid himself into thinking this is the future he’d dreamt for himself; he has his own place with his own partner, they’re happy and together and, sure, they do have arguments, every couple has arguments, but they settle them. their fights never get between them, never cause them more grief than necessary. they’re healthy, their relationship’s healthy.

they have a dog that they care for. they walk her and bathe her, play with her when she’s restless with energy and hold her close when all she wants is company. nora starts off not being fond but soon warms up, too. the two animals manage to live together in harmony, and jaebum smiles every time he sees them.

ars moves closer, the hand that had been resting on jaebum’s chest moves to cup his side, thumb running over where his ribs could, possibly in another life, poke through his skin. jaebum continues to play with his hair, running fingers through the longer strands and ghosting the tips of his fingers over the buzzed strands around his ears.

they could just simply be together, or maybe one of them is entertaining the idea of engagement, of marriage. such a big leap in life, it would be emotional. because how could he have been so lucky? nora jumps down from the bed with a quiet meow and toddles out of the room with her tail high. he watches his cat leave, his daughter, a soft smile on his lips.

ars presses himself into his side, sighs heavily through his nose, and closes his eyes. “I’m never going to love you, you know.”

the soft smile slowly drops from jaebum’s face and he moves his gaze from the empty doorway to the dark, grey ceiling.

 

**v.**

the third time jaebum told ars he loved him it was autumn. the two of them had gone to a nearby park, not exactly holding hands but letting their knuckles bump together as they walked. leaves crunched beneath their feet and filled the air. children were playing somewhere in the distance, mothers all huddled together on a bench with their coffees.

ars looked shocked when those words hung between them. he stopped walking and his eyes widened, disbelieving. his jaw had dropped an inch, lips parted with just the hint of teeth and tongue. it was an endearing look, and just reinforced the feeling that swelled in jaebum’s chest.

he laughed and cupped ars’ cheeks, pulling him closer for a moment. just a moment. the people around them melted away when he locked eyes with ars and, instead of giving in, instead of kissing the air from his lungs, he pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and caressed the tops of ars’ cheeks.

when they walked away, ars stubbornly curled his fingers around two of jaebum’s and refused to let go.

 

**vi.**

“we can’t keep meeting up like this,” jaebum sighs.

ars looks up from his coffee and blinks, eyebrows raised high. “it’s not exactly like I can stay in one place for long.”

jaebum turns his head away, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and grinds his teeth together. “you could stop running, you know. stay with me. we could go somewhere.”

it’s wednesday. it’s a grey wednesday, full of washed out colours and tired faces. people are busy with their lives, trying to get from point a to point b in the least amount of time, or putting off a meeting with a family member they’re dreading by loitering about, pretending there’s traffic. jaebum contemplates about how his life could have been if he’d left his meeting with ars at the simple apology. would he be happier? would he still have the friends he has now?

would he have met ars at a later date?

ars lets his eyes run over jaebum’s features. there’s tension in his body that doesn’t exist in ars’ own. he’s calm, stroking his thumb along the cardboard cup and resting it against his bottom lip. he’s always so damn calm. it’s almost as if he doesn’t let anything affect him any more.

when jaebum locks gazes with him, he raises an eyebrow and pulls his cup away from his mouth. “I can’t just stop running. you know that. everyone’s looking for me. everyone wants me dead.”

“I don’t,” jaebum says quickly, maybe just too quickly. it’s telling. he looks away sharply, exhaling harshly through his nose and setting his jaw.

ars nods, unperturbed. “you’re the only one.”

the sigh is loud and heavy and ars doesn’t fully understand, but he _does_.

“you’re—” jaebum closes his eyes and tilts his head back, shoulders rolling to try and defuse the tension. the leather’s a little too restricting. it reminds him of the ground beneath his feet, of the wind against his face, of the sun behind the clouds. “how can you just be ready to die?”

a noise from the back of his throat. “I’m not ready to die. I never have been,” ars admits. he’s staring like he can’t believe the accusation, like jaebum’s an _idiot_. “but when you’ve done what I’ve done, when you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you accept it.”

it’s a windy wednesday. not even the weekend. he has nowhere to be for several hours, and ars always only works from the late hours of the night to the early hours of the morning. he’s stuck here, walking down a surprisingly empty street with the clumsy man who stole his heart with fumbling fingers.

“you accept it,” he repeats.

ars peers up at him in a way jaebum knows if he didn’t have the mask would accentuate his jaw. he hates how he knows that, hates how even during the most serious conversation he still feels overwhelmed and _lucky_ that he met ars.

“I never told you the extent of what I’ve done, have I?” ars asks. it sounds like he’s smiling, something small and gentle.

jaebum hates him for it.

ars nods again and looks ahead of them. he sips on his coffee thoughtfully, both hands wrapped around the cup. “when we get home, I’ll tell you personally what I’ve done. the news never quite gets it right.”

it’s a dreary wednesday. jaebum finds out just how much pity ars holds for him.

 

**vii.**

the truth is a funny thing. it’s sought out it by the masses, craved for by many but given by so few. people expect to get it handed to them without revealing their own. they want and they _want_ , but they won’t give, oh no.

the truth can make or break something. it complicates and simplifies. people fear it, they don’t want to hear it, sometimes. they fear it because they love to live in lies, in fantasies. they hate the idea of getting their perfect little world to shatter before them from something they can’t deny, refuse to believe.

because it’s so easy to alter the truth, isn’t it? so easy to tell a lie, to have someone believe something that isn’t true, that could never be true. because lies are easier than the truth, they always have been. why would you choose a difficult route when there’s such an easier one right next to it?

**viii.**

dating had been jaebum’s idea.

he was so excited when ars said yes, when ars grinned up at him, wide and enthusiastic. it was the single happiest moment of his life, filling him up from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. so fragile, the moment, the memory. so naïve and innocent.

it had happened after they’d ben sort of dating for a few months, out of the blue. jaebum wasn’t sure if ars was even into him like that, if the flirting had merely been something he couldn’t control. but no. his worries and nerves could be washed away.

here he was, with ars’ hand in his own, already trying to plan how to get the younger man into his clothes. he could just picture pretending to be angry when one of his jumpers went missing, only to be found in ars’ house a week later, strewn on the floor or over the back of a chair. cooking in the kitchen would be a mess as they tried to get better at recipes, tried stubbornly to be the one in control, giving orders.

this was the start of what he’d wanted from childhood; this was the start of something nice and happy.

 

**ix.**

mark and jinyoung make it work. mark’s been neck deep in criminal activities since he was in the womb, with his family’s roots buried so far that he has no choice but to fold, fall right into his parents’ footsteps and become a part of it all, too.

he’s not a bad man, jaebum knows that. he’s one of his closest friends — his best friend, if you will — and he’s an absolute delight to be around. he knows what to say and when to say it. he’s quiet and controlled, charming to within an inch of his life. you wouldn’t expect him to be part of a gang, to become a leader soon enough.

and then there’s jinyoung. jinyoung who works for the police force, who’s the biggest stickler for the law jaebum’s ever seen. he’s sarcastic and confident, with cutting remarks that have gotten him punched and shoved more often than not. but he means well, he always means well. he frets, and he cares, and that’s enough.

it’s enough for them. they come from different backgrounds, their own individual stresses butting heads. but it works. they can get it to work despite their differences. jaebum’s never quite sure how they can be so happy, how mark’s the happiest he’s ever been, with a partner like that.

mark and jinyoung make it work. so why can’t jaebum and ars?

 

**x.**

I wish this was a nicer story, something with an ending stemming from that bittersweet fiction people bury themselves in nowadays. maybe in another life, insecurities can be shared and they’ll resolve their problems. maybe, somewhere else, they clash at a different point in their lives and they make it work.

if this was a nicer story, I’d be able to tell you how it ends. save you heart break, give you a warning, maybe. because I know how it starts— of course I know how it starts, and so do you, now.

I just can’t remember how it ends.

 

**xi.**

ars is in his lap, hands cupping his neck and lips insistent on his. he hasn’t been this eager in a long time, and it makes jaebum wary. but he goes along with it, parts his mouth when teeth bite at his bottom lip. he greets the tongue with his own and slips his arms from around ars’ waist to rest his hands on his hips.

there’s a different kind of passion behind them today, behind this. there’s a fire that isn’t there usually, and it feels violent. teeth clash together, sink into his bottom lip and scrape against his tongue; nails press into his scalp, the back of his neck, drag along his flesh; pressure builds against him, rotating in short, sharp circles.

“ars,” jaebum groans out when his mouth is finally free.

teeth and lips attack his neck, biting at the skin and sucking it harshly into his mouth. jaebum doesn’t bother to hide the noises it forces out of him, doesn’t think he wants to. he likes this too much, is enjoying himself more than he thought he would. the idea of getting hickeys to show off — but to _who_? — sends a shudder down his spine.

he tightens his grip on ars’ hips. he’s not entirely sure if it’s to secure himself or to slow the boy down. but it’s to do something. right?

“ars,” he tries again, trying to lean further away.

“stop moving,” ars mumbles, using his hands to hold jaebum’s head, to force him to look at him. his cheeks are that same rosy colour — the colour that reminds jaebum of _life_ far too much — and his lips are swollen, a deeper pink than usual.

“ars, what—”

“I’m trying to avoid talking because I know what it’ll lead to,” ars says quickly. confesses, really. there isn’t a better word for it, for the look in his eyes and the way he tightens his grip on jaebum only give away his nerves, “and I don’t want that to come.”

 

**xii.**

it might make them cheesy, but they never called it _sex_. it probably showed just how naïve they were, that the words out of their mouths were _make love_. it was all jaebum could think of when the kissing lead to more, when heavy petting came into it.

a warmth that spread from his fingertips into the depth of his chest. everywhere ars touched felt alive and burning, and the feeling of being engulfed completely would never leave him. kisses interrupted by moans and gasps and confessions—

but only his confessions. only jaebum’s. because ars would get lost in the moment, in the pleasure, and all he would do is moan and whimper and ask for more. but that was okay. because it allowed jaebum to say whatever he wanted and not feel embarrassed about it.

promises of them being together, declarations of love, compliments and deepest thoughts. how he wanted nothing more than to build a family with him, how he would make the best father, how they could move in together and create a family between them. his little childhood fantasy broke the seams and ran out of him like a dam in these moments. drowned the two of them in _what ifs_ and _could bes_.

 

**xiii.**

when they have sex now, jaebum never says a word.

 

**xiv.**

“you know,” jinyoung says followed by rustling, the sound a bit too loud and makes jaebum wince. “it dawned on me the other day. you know, when that other gang decided to break in.”

“yeah?” jaebum asks. because it’s polite. because he cares about his friend and wants to distract himself.

it sounds like jinyoung’s finally settled because the rustling stops and the only thing that carries through the line is his voice. “I have something most people spend their whole life searching for.”

jaebum blinks. only then does he realise that he’d been staring off into space for the past… twenty or so minutes he’d been talking to his old friend. he blinks a few more times, then shoots a look around the living room, trying to find the blur that are his glasses.

“what’s that?”

“someone who would give me the world if I asked.” his voice is small, vulnerable. jaebum can’t remember the last time he heard it like that. can’t remember the last time he heard such raw emotion. “and it terrifies me.”

jaebum doesn’t know what to say to that. he doesn’t have that, he knows. he thought he might, with ars, in the beginning. he thought he would feel that way towards ars with time, the boy would become his light, his reason. the boy would become his everything and it would fulfil every fairytale.

instead here he is, alone and swimming in his own clothes. slowly, he brings his feet up onto the sofa and curls his free arm around his knees, hugging them close. resting his chin on his arm, he looks out the window at the night sky, eyes darting from star to star.

“yeah,” he croaks out, finally. “yeah, that does sound terrifying.”

 

xv.

“this whole time I’ve been using you to make me feel better, and you never caught on.”

jaebum freezes and stares. his mouth might be hanging open, he might look like an idiot holding the car door open. he’s pretty sure his own heart has stopped, too. there isn’t blood moving about his veins any more; it’s stationary and _painful_.

ars stands feet away, ringing his hands and staring straight at him. he should have known something’s up, that something big’s going to come down. because ars is standing straight, with his shoulders back and his chin tipped up. it looks like he’s preparing himself for a fight. jaebum isn’t sure he’s going to be able to provide it.

 “you never caught on,” ars whispers. the open pity on his face makes jaebum want to puke, want to punch a wall, feel the sting on his knuckles. “I want you to hate me now, but I don’t think you’re even able to.”

jaebum can’t register much else. he doesn’t know what to do, what to say. he _doesn’t know_.

ars’ eyes are glassy and slowly reddening. he thinks that he might get to see ars cry for the first time in two years. he hopes he might get to see ars cry for the first time in two years. then he can hold him close, tell him they can work things out, that it’s okay, that they can make something of this.

his hopes haven’t even gotten their things in through the front door when ars turns around and walks away.

 

**xvi.**

it’s not a nice story. this isn’t a fairytale. it might not ever be; it certainly wants to be. something bittersweet that leaves a weird taste in the back of your mouth and a heavy weight in your ribcage. but we all know that we don’t always get what we want.

I wish I could remember how this ends, so I could tell you. I wish I knew if this turns out to be a fairytale, or if it continues to suck the life from jaebum until he gives up.

but I can’t remember. I just can’t remember.


End file.
